


This Means War

by Bittyab18



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/F, F/M, Modern AU, Multi, Strained Parent-Child Relationship, Tumblr Prompts, discussion of alcoholism, discussion of anger issues, discussion of drug abuse, discussion of eating disorders, discussion of mental health disorders, discussion of teen pregnancy, discussions of bisexualism, discussions of foster care, dumping drinks on heads, i don't actually hate people in sororities, murder plots, peeing on cars, sorority hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittyab18/pseuds/Bittyab18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was formerly a bunch of Bellarke one-shots based on tumblr prompts, but I've decided to run with this 'verse and make it into a full-fledged story.</p><p>Title is courtesy of my girl Marissa! Thanks, love!</p><p>Be on the look out for a new version of 'Bellarke Shorts' that will be in fact a series of short stories.</p><p> </p><p>Summary - Clarke Griffin's dad died when she was fifteen, and she's been struggling with mental health issues ever since. Now in college, she develops a complicated relationship with one Bellamy Blake and his sister. Is Bellamy really as much of an asshole as she pegged him to be? Do two broken hearts come together to make a perfect love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Fuck those Kappa bitches!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is exhausted, studying for an exam. To make matters worse, some asshole pees on her car, while she’s in it. When she sees the jackass the next day, she decides to fuck with him in retaliation.
> 
> Based on this prompt: “You peed on my car. You were drunk. I was in the car. There will be hell to pay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a member of a sorority, but I definitely don’t hate anyone who is a member of one! For the sake of this fic, I’m putting down sororities, and I’m sorry. I also use some nasty language in this chapter, so be prepared!!

Clarke sighed as the words on the page were starting to blur. She could barely make out the formulas that were written in her perfect scrawl in blue pen. She blinked, rubbing her eyes, hoping that the sensation would make the weariness disappear. Unfortunately, all that it did was make black splotches erupt in her vision. She yawned, deciding to call it a night. She closed her notebook and the textbook and slid them into her bag. She then put away her highlighters, pens, pencils, and erasers in the cloth pencil case that she uses, tossing that into her schoolbag as well. She stood up, pressing the round home button on her iPhone to check the time. “Fuck,” she whined when she saw that it was nearly two in the morning on Thursday night. Or, well, technically Friday morning. She had an organic chemistry exam at eight the next morning. She did some quick mental math, calculating how long it could take until she were home and in her bed.

Five minutes from the second floor lounge to the parking lot, five minutes to get into her car, start it up, and get her iPod hooked up to the radio so that she could drive home without falling asleep behind the wheel, ten minutes to drive home (if she hit every green light; if not, fifteen minutes because the light on Second Avenue and the one on Birch Street were really fucking slow), six minutes to climb to the fifth floor of her apartment building, because the elevator was still broken, and then another five minutes to pee, wash her face, and brush her teeth before collapsing in bed. All in all, anywhere from thirty to thirty-five minutes.

She grabbed her liter water bottle that was still three-quarters of the way full (it was her third of the day, but she was a double major in pre-med and nutrition, and she wanted to become a certified nutritional specialist and naturopathic doctor, much to her general surgeon mother’s chagrin, so she knew the importance of a healthy diet and the benefits of water). She quickly made her way out of the library, yawning as she did. She smiled tiredly when she saw her car, the only car lining the side street near the library. It was one-thirty in the morning on Thirsty Thursday, so it was expected that her car was the only one left nearby. She had parked there when she’d first arrived at eight, because all of the parking spots were filled in the lot, and she was one of the last few people in the library.

Clarke heard the laughter of two guys from down the block. She glanced at them as she headed toward her car, noticing that they were stumbling along. She rolled her eyes, because they were drunk and acting like fools, coming from one of the many Thursday night house parties that were being held off-campus. Arkstone University had a dry-campus, so students often rented houses off-campus to throw their drunken festivities. Clarke chose an apartment that was much farther away from campus, but much quieter and less populated, because she had two rigorous majors to focus on.

She made her way quickly to her car. She threw her school bag onto the passenger seat as she climbed in, locking the door behind her after she slammed it shut. She slid her key into the ignition, turning it on. She plugged her phone into the port, scrolling through her playlists to find something happy and upbeat to keep her from being too tired on the way home. She listened to the laughter and yells of the guys as they got closer and closer to her car. She yawned again, finally settling on an old _Panic! at the Disco_ song to listen to. She started the song, turning the volume to a moderate level.

“Fuck those Kappa bitches!” She heard one of guys shout, and she glanced up, confused as hell. She saw a guy with mussed dark hair come up behind her car. She froze, her eyes widening in shock. She turned the volume down on her radio, suddenly nervous.

“Kappa whores!” The other one laughed, standing off to the side. She heard the sound of something being splattered on the back of her car. She saw mussed hair guy’s head fall back, a smile on his lips. After a moment, the guy stepped back from her car, and he shuffles around the side, fumbling with his pants. He was re-doing the belt of his pants as he walked by the window of her car, winking at her. His buddy was laughing obnoxiously loud, tripping over his own feet as he followed behind his friend, a hand holding his beanie to the top of his head.

When they disappeared from sight, she jumped out of her car, rushing to the back of. She grimaced, her hand coming up to cover her nose as she smelled the distinct smell of alcohol-tainted urine on the back of her car, a small puddle beneath the back bumper from where it was still dripping. The asshole pissed on her car. The drunk fucking asshole pissed on her car _while she was in it_. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” She stormed back to the open door of her car, the music trickling out of it at a low volume. She grabbed the water bottle from the passenger seat, where she had rested it against her bag. She walked the back of her car, pouring the water onto her bumper where the guy had pissed on it, doing the best she could to rinse it away. When she’d emptied the rest of the bottle of water onto the bumper, she made her way back into her car and started the drive home.

She didn’t need to listen to music to stay awake. Instead, she heard the rushing of blood in her ears as she stewed in anger over what the fucking dickhead did to her car.

* * *

The next day, Clarke wearily walked into the dining hall after her exam. She hardly slept, nervous about the exam and pissed off over the asshole who drunkenly pissed on her car. After dropping her bag on an empty table, she was off searching for the coffee to ease the tension in her body. After making a cup, she headed back to her table to drink it as she looked over her reading that was assigned the day before for her psychology class. As she sipped the coffee and read about Freud’s penis envy in women (yeah, right!), she heard a familiar voice walk by.

“My head is fucking killing me, man. Remind me to never drink that much again.” The guy groaned, and she stilled, glancing over her shoulder to see car-pisser walking away from the omelet line with a plate in hand. His friend, laughing-beanie, was nodding his head as he took several large gulps from what looked like glass of blue Gatorade. She narrowed her eyes, watching the pathway of the guys. She saw the dark-haired guy pause, nodding his head at a table with two pretty girls sitting at it. “Those are the girls that I had the threesome with last week. I don’t usually do second helpings, but they were hot as fuck.”

“Pig.” She muttered, turning away from them to slam her nearly empty coffee mug down. She pushed her chair back forcefully as she stood up. She gathered up her belongings, tossing her bag over her shoulder. She was about to do something that would likely get herself thrown out of the dining hall, so she may as well get her stuff ready to go. It would definitely be well worth it. She grabbed a banana, an apple, and an orange from the fruit stand, dropping them in her bag before heading over to the drink stations. She perused the drinks, finally deciding on the cherry-red fruit punch. She quickly filled a glass to the brim and stalked over to where the guy was sitting in a chair across from the two girls, smirking and flirting with them. His friend frowned, brow furrowing, as he watched her get closer and closer, not recognizing her, but definitely seeing the maniacal look on her face. “Hey, dickhead.” She said when she finally got close to them, upending the red punch on top of car-pissing asshole’s head. He jumped up, red sticky liquid pouring down his face and seeping into his white t-shirt and jeans.

“What the fuck!?” He yelled, and she smiled rudely at him, slamming the cup down on the table. “What’s your fucking problem!?” He said, grabbing napkins to begin scrubbing at his face and neck. The few people in the dining hall glanced over at them, trying to see what was going on. A few bouts of laughter went around as people saw the red punch all over him.

Now that she was up close with him, Clarke noticed that he was pretty cute, and his wet shirt clung to his chest in a rather flattering way, but she couldn’t let herself get distracted by his attractiveness. She crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. “That’s for pissing on my car last night.” She turned on her heel and stormed away, but two seconds later, she was being whipped around by someone’s firm grip on her upper arm.

“Maybe sorority bitches like you shouldn’t fuck with my sister.” She furrowed her brow, pulling her arm from his grasp.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” She spat, glaring at him.

“You Kappas fucked with my sister. She’s eighteen, and she wanted to join a sorority. You cunts said that she was a shoe-in for Kappa, and you convinced her to put down _only_ Kappa on her rush card, but you didn’t pick her back, so she was devastated. You deserve worse than someone pissing on your car for breaking my kid sister’s heart.”

Clarke was momentarily distracted by this guy’s love and devotion to his sister, but then she remembered that she _wasn’t_ in a sorority, and the asshole pissed on her car. “I’m _not_ in Kappa.” She said through gritted teeth. “I’m _not_ in _any_ sorority!” A look of surprise flashed across his face before he tightened his jaw.

“Bullshit. You had a Kappa shirt in the backseat of your car.” She was confused again for a moment before the realization set in.

“You’re an idiot.” She shook her head. “Just because I have a Kappa shirt in my backseat, it does not mean that I’m a Kappa.” She rolled her eyes at him, arching a single eyebrow at him. “I fucked a Kappa in the backseat of my car after a party last weekend. I thought she was hot, and she was curious about what it’s like to go down on another girl. She was a lousy lay, and she left her t-shirt behind, leaving only with the tank top she was wearing underneath.” The guy’s eyes widened in surprise, and she took advantage of the moment to walk away.

Once again, she didn’t make it far before he was grabbing hold of her arm. “You owe me a clean shirt and pair of pants.” She scoffed, yanking her arm out of his grasp once more.

“I’ll wash your clothes when you wash my car. _Dick_.” She stormed away, feeling proud of herself. She made a fool out of him in more ways than one.

“You know this means war, right, Princess?” He called out to her, but she just raised her hand and flipped him off. She heard his deep laughter from behind her, and while it did funny things to her nether regions, she kept her head held high as she walked out of the dining hall. He was still an asshole.


	2. “Chill, Dexter! … When you say shit like this, it makes me want to cancel your Netflix subscription.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is beyond pissed when the fire alarm goes off in the wee hours of the morning on a Sunday. Sunday is for sleeping in and spending the rest of the day on the couch, watching Netflix. She begins to scare the rest of the inhabitants of apartment complex.
> 
> Based on this prompt: “It’s 3am, in the dead of winter, some motherfucker pulled/set off the fire alarm and I am being very vocal about how I’m gonna make that fucker pay”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in the same general universe as the last prompt. Clarke and the car-pissing cute guy meet up again.
> 
>  
> 
> Also known as I can never just write a one-shot and leave it just as a one-shot. So, I'm thinking that each category will be loosely strung together. Or, maybe, fully strung together.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Clarke snapped, wrapping her arms around herself. She was beyond fucking pissed, because the fire alarm went off at two in the morning on the Sunday before Thanksgiving. It was fucking cold, and she wasn't wearing enough clothing for this shit. Plus, she was tired. It was Sunday, and Sundays meant sleeping in and lounging around on the couch in your pajamas, vegging out with Netflix marathons, putting off the mountains of homework you had to do for the following week. It was too cold for standing outside in below-thirty degree weather, especially when she was only in her pajamas. She was wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms with ice cream cones all over them and a light pink long-sleeved shirt over top. On her feet were a pair of fuzzy green socks, and she’d shoved her feet into her black fuzzy boots. She’d grabbed her cardigan sweater from the floor of bedroom when the fire alarm in the apartment complex started blaring, stumbling with bleary eyes out of the apartment after her roommate and best friend, Raven Reyes.

“Ugh, why did I stay here tonight? I should have slept at—oh, hey, a pretty girl with big boobs!” Raven stopped her sentence abruptly when Clarke eyed her. Clarke laughed, because Raven was trying her best to keep her more-than-a-hookup, less-than-a-relationship thing with her T.A. for one of her engineering classes a secret, even from her best friend in all of the world.

Then again, Clarke and Raven kept the boy talk to a minimum after they both were burned by dating the same guy. Raven and Finn had known each other their entire lives and dated their senior year of high school and freshman year of college. Clarke and Finn had met in a philosophy class in the spring of freshman year, and they began dating just after spring break. Much to Clarke’s chagrin, she realized that the guy she slept with few times and went on a few dates with already had a really hot girlfriend. Both girls dumped Finn and started hanging out. They became really close friends their sophomore year, and they decided to get an apartment together off-campus for their junior and senior years. Finn and Raven were still close, they associated via Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, email, and text messages, but it was Raven and Clarke who were now thick as thieves. When it came to her relationship with the pretentious and close-minded hidden under the veil of being open-minded Finn (he was the type of person who believed that everyone should be equal and be allowed to have their own point of view, but became sarcastic and nasty if the other person had an opposing point of him to him; “what do you mean you’re a republican!? Do you care about the rights of women or minorities at all? The trickle down policy just doesn’t work! Are you stupid or something!?”) and the outrageous, but loyal to a fault Raven, Clarke knew she won the lottery with her friendship with Raven. Plus, Raven was hotter.

“Where should you have slept, Raven?” Clarke said, cocking her head to the side, an amused smile on her lips. The teasing lasted a moment before the wind blew, and she felt her nipples harden even more beneath the thin material of her shirt and tank top. She whimpered, opening her arms and holding them out to Raven. “I’m cold.”

Raven grumbled about body space and boundaries, but she willingly stepped into Clarke’s embrace. The two women clutched each other close, teeth-chattering, ice cold noses pressed against cheeks. “You’re boobs are too big and getting in the way.” Raven complained, making Clarke pout.

“Shut it. You’re shoulders are bony.” Clarke complained, shifting her arms from where they were resting on Raven’s neck to wrap under her arms.

“How come you get to be under the arms?” Raven complained.

“Because your arms are under my sweater around my back.” Clarke responded. “I’m going to murder the mother-fucker who set the fire alarm off.” She whined, pressing her face into crook where Raven’s neck met her shoulder.

“My toes are frozen solid.”

“Seriously, I’m picturing ways in which I would kill that fucker. There’s drowning. Drowning is slow and painful, especially if it is in an icy river.” Clarke continued, but she frowned, pulling her head back to glare at the people waiting around them, chatting lazily in their blankets and coats. Fuck you, jerks. “But water isn’t good, because I’d get cold and wet during all of the thrashing that the fucker would do.”

“Jesus, Clarke.” Raven whistled, shaking her head.

“Maybe they have a food allergy. I could slip them the food their allergic to, and then bye-bye!” She crowed, beginning to bounce up and down in Raven’s arms to get feeling back into her legs.

“Mm, is this how lesbians and bisexual girl getting some girl-on-girl action have sex?” Raven asked her, shimmying a little against her chest. Clarke stuck her tongue at her.

“But, if they have a food allergy, they’re probably going to have an Epi-pen on them or whatever, so they could be potentially saved. Same with poisonous plants. I know a lot of poisonous plants, but it’s too easy to save someone’s ass that way.” Clarke frowned, stopping her bouncing and continuing on with her murder plans. “Maybe something venomous? Like a snake or whatever? Wait, no. I hate snakes.”

“Yet you love dick.” Raven added, making Clarke laugh, her head falling back so that her blonde curls fell down her back.

“That kind of snake is right up my alley!”

“Pun intended?” Raven asked her.

“Very much so. Speaking of alleys, I like getting lost in them, too.”

“Damn, you bi girls are such sluts!” Raven grinned, and both girls erupted into giggles.

“There’s all the ways that result in a lot of blood. Those are some of my favorite ways to murder the mother-fucker who set the fire alarm off.”

“Fuck, Clarke. Aren’t you a pre-med major?” Raven snorted. “Isn’t the first rule of being a doctor or whatever to do no harm?”

“Yeah, but because I’m studying to be a doctor—a _naturopathic doctor_ —I know where all of the major arteries are in the body, so I know where to take a knife or a scalpel to someone to ensure that they’d bleed out in mere moments.”

“Yeah, but then they’d bleed on you.”

“You’re right. Bloody is bad. To use a knife or a scalpel, I’d have to get up-close and personal with them, leaving behind hair or finger prints or skin or saliva. Hell, I could even cut myself, leaving behind my blood! Or, I would get their blood on me or something. So, bloody is out.”

“ _Chill_ , _Dexter_!” Raven said with wide eyes. “When you say shit like this, it makes me want to cancel your Netflix subscription.”

“You wouldn’t! How am I supposed to be able to watch reruns of _Beverly Hills, 90210_. Fuck, Dylan. Kelly and Brandon were _meant to be_!”

“I recommend that you stop being a creepy serial killer and plotting the murder of the person who set off the fire alarm.”

“Aww, but I was waiting to hear the best way to kill the asshole.” A male voice coming from behind Clarke made them both jump. She pulled away from Raven, squeezing her palms into fists when she recognized the voice as the car-pisser from late September. She turned around, eyes narrowed, crossing her arms in front of herself.

Raven whimpered at the loss of contact from Clarke, so she clung to Clarke’s back like a monkey, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She rested her chin on Clarke’s shoulder, eyeing car-pisser warily. “Who the fuck are you? Also, please don’t encourage her. She’s an artist, so she’s very creative, detail-oriented, and _visual_. She likes describing things so clearly that you can picture it in front of you like it is taking place in real life or it’s in a picture or something.”

“I’m Bellamy.” He grinned at Raven, but his eyes were leveled on Clarke. He held his hand out, and Raven unwrapped her arm from around Clarke’s waist and shuffled forward, forcing Clarke to go with her, until her hand met car-pisser’s, _Bellamy_ , grasp. Clarke filed the information away, but then growled under her breath at her own reaction. Just because he was cute, it did not mean that she could forget that he was a huge asshole.

“Raven.” She returned her arm to Clarke’s waist when she was finished shaking Bellamy’s hand. “Crazy lady here is Clarke. Best friend. Roommate. Potential lesbian lover one day if she convinces me that lady kisses are better than dicks and balls.”

“Raven, girls have boobs. Boobs are lovely.” Clarke responded immediately out of habit. She’d give up guys in a red hot second for Raven. She loved her best friend dearly and whole-heartedly. They’d make a hot couple.

“I have to concur.” Bellamy laughed, and Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Yes, but boys have penises that go inside you.” Raven shifted so that she was hugging Clarke’s side instead.

“Eh, that’s what vibrators, dildos, and strap-ons are for.” Clarke said, batting Raven’s excuse away with a wave of her hand.

“Doesn’t that defeat the whole point of the lesbian girly action thing?”

“ _No_.” Clarke snorted at her friend, rolling her eyes. “But I’m not a lesbian. I’m bisexual, so I like penises, of the real or faux varieties.” She grinned at Raven. “Dude, Raven, that’s the best part of you dating me! I’d be down for some dude-fucking, too!” Raven laughed, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek. “Wick would be so excited…” Clarke sing-songed under her breath, earning a pinch to the side from Raven. “Ouch!”

“Shut it, Griffin.”

“Fuck off, Reyes!”

“Should I leave you two alone?” Bellamy’s voice snapped them back to reality, and Clarke glared at him.

“What the hell are you doing here anyways? Are you stalking me?” Bellamy scoffed, rolling his eyes at her, an amused smirk resting attractively on his stupid(ly cute) face.

“I live here, Princess.” He cocked his head to the side. “Imagine my surprise that the girl who dumped punch all over me in the dining hall lives in the same apartment complex as me. Hearing you plot your murderous revenge on the person who set the fire alarm off was simultaneously scaring the shit out of me and turning me on. That and the girl-on-girl action you two were having to stay warm.” He winked, and she faked a gag, looking away.

“Yeah, well, that’s never happening, buddy, so dream on.” She snapped.

“Oh, I will, Princess. I definitely will.” It was then that they were being told that only a few more minutes until they’d be allowed back into the building. Rumors started swirling that there was no fire at all, but instead that someone had purposely pulled the alarm just to be an asshole.

“Fire.” Clarke said suddenly, earning a surprised look from Bellamy and a groan from Raven. “The perfect way to kill them would be fire, because it would burn away any evidence of my DNA on the person, and I would be warmed by their burning corpse. The disgusting smell of burning hair and flesh would suck, but I’d suck it up, because then I’d be warm.”

“Christ, you’re so fucking sick!” Raven muttered at the same time that Bellamy stated that she was “so fucking hot.” Clarke glared at him one last time before turning on her heel and marching inside with Raven. Both girls’ arms were wrapped around each other, and Raven whispered into her ear. “That was the car-pissing asshole, huh? He’s pretty hot. You two gonna fuck?”

“No!” Clarke jerked away from Raven, hoping that the blush on her cheeks was masked by the fact that they were already a rosy red from being out in the cold.

“Uh-huh. Sure, Clarke.” Raven laughed. “He looks like he’s a good lay. You should go for it.”

“Fuck off, Raven.” Clarke said, slamming the door to her bedroom shut behind her. She leaned against it for a moment, willing her heart to stop pounding in her chest at the prospect of her fooling around with Bellamy. The guy was an asshole. She _was not_ going to sleep with him.


	3. “Now, take the fucking flyer before I shove it down your throat or leave me alone.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke’s just trying to get the word out about healthy eating and figuring out what is best for one’s body. She meets a pretty girl and bonds with her. Then, Bellamy comes along, and he’s a douche. Or, well, she thinks he is, so she attempts to be a bitch. Except, by the end of it, she begins seeing him in a new light. Shit.
> 
> Based on this prompt: “I’m really passionate about this cause and I will give you this flier if I have to shove it down your throat”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again…I have a problem with writing one-shots. Each of these could stand alone, but they go together, too. 
> 
> And, like, do it for you bodies, man! Make healthy food choices!
> 
> Not much Bellarke in this one, but a lot of Clarktavia (??) bonding. It’s also a pretty long. Yay?!

“Hi, would you like a flyer?” Clarke held a flyer out to guy with long, stringy brown hair, a hooked nose, and piercing blue eyes. He scoffed, pushing past her so that the flyer in her fingers slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the ground, landing in a soggy puddle. It was a rather mild February day, still cold enough that she needed to wear a pair of thick white stockings under her jean skirt, a pair of tightly-laced black combat boots, an oversized light gray sweater, revealing the straps of the black tank top she was wearing beneath it, a gray and black striped scarf tied around her neck, and her bright red winter coat. Her loose blonde curls were hanging messily around her face, and a red beanie was tucked on her head, covering her ears. She wore no makeup beyond a swipe of her organic cherry-red lipstick and a few swipes of black mascara on her lashes. The cool air tinged her cheeks pink in a pretty way, and the tops of her fingers were red, because she wore a pair of gloves with exposed fingers with a cap to stick her fingers in to make them mittens like little kids wore. She didn’t use the mitten cap for her fingers, because she wouldn’t be able to get the pages of the flyers to separate if she did.

She frowned, kicking at the bit of icy sludge on the ground, staring at the white paper that began to disintegrate in the chilly puddle on the ground. This wasn’t off to a good start. She had made the flyers on a whim, after seeing yet another post on Facebook from some of her favorite nutritionists, naturopaths, and published doctors about the importance of healthy eating and the debate over whether GMOs were poisonous to one’s health and all of that crap. No one was debating the benefits of eating more fruits and vegetables, fewer carbs, and animal products that weren’t shot up with hormones or drugs, but there were so many debates over what _type_ of diet one should eat. Some screamed veganism is the best way to go. Others shouted that paleo is how one should get their nutrients. Others spouted that a raw diet was best (vegan or not, just eat more raw foods). All of it was confusing, and she was the one studying nutrition, so she couldn’t imagine what the lay people were experiencing.

Clarke wanted to start nutrition club on campus that would meet in the library lounge to get a dialogue going about the importance of food. She hoped that enough people would be interested, and perhaps they could make changes in the food being offered at the college (there were a lot of fried foods, not many vegetable and fruit options, and _white_ carbs at Arkstone; she wanted to change that). Then, going beyond that, perhaps enough people would be interested in making changes within the local community, at the state level, and maybe even nationally.

It was an ambitious dream, and Raven told her as much as she shoved a hand into a bag of Doritos, fingertips stained orangey-red. Clarke grimaced as she watched her friend bring the sodium-laden and over-processed crap to her lips, digging her hand into the small bowl of almonds and peanuts that she had chosen as her afternoon snack instead. Raven rolled her eyes, talking around her mouthful of chip, telling Clarke that college kids liked crap junk food, because it was easy, cheap, and tasted good.

Clarke hated that, but she knew her friend was right. She just hoped that she could start a conversation in which more of the college students would choose to grab an apple with their chicken finger sandwich instead of a bag of potato tips. Even changing one processed junk item for a healthy item would make their health infinitely healthier. She grabbed another flier and held it out to a thin, willowy girl with long brown hair and a slender nose. She was pretty in the plain kind of way. “Flyer?” The girl smiled politely, taking the flyer to glance at it. She was hopeful, watching the girl go, but the girl turned around and dropped the flyer into the trash. “At least it was the recycling bin,” she muttered to herself.

“Are you handing out flyers?” The girl that stalked up to Clarke was beautiful. She had dark brown hair, a light tan to her skin, and hazel eyes that looked amber one minute, dark brown the next, and green somewhere in the middle. She appeared to be a year or so younger than Clarke, either a freshman or a sophomore, but she had a hardened edge to her that seemed to indicate that she was no delicate flower. She was dressed in a pair of tight jeans, black motorcycle boots similar to Clarke’s, a red long-sleeved shirt, and a leather jacket. She held her hand out, and Clarke smiled, passing a flyer to the girl. “A nutrition club? You’re going with a nutrition club? I was hoping it was something cool, like a flash mob sign up or a secret rave. Hell, even a presentation on _the Vagina Monologues_.”

Clarke snorted, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m not the best dancer, so flash mob is out. Double major, and one of them is pre-med, so a secret rave with the potential to take laced ecstasy isn’t my thing. As for _the Vagina Monologues_ , my friend Harper’s running a reading in a few weeks, so I’m sure I’ll be passing out more flyers then.” She itched the tip of her nose with her index finger. The girl raised her glance from the flyers, smirking at Clarke in a way that was decidedly familiar, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen the smirk before. “As for the other cool shit on campus, we have a pretty huge and active LGBTQIAA community on campus. I’m the B of the acronym, so I go to the weekly meetings. They’re held on Tuesdays at seven in the Campus Center, so you can come if you want.” She didn’t mean it to come out flirty, but the girl’s eyebrow quirked, her smirk deepening, making Clarke blush, her cheeks growing even rosier.

“I’m straight, but I never say never,” the girl smirked.

“Well, there is an A for Ally.”

“Cool, I’m down. One of my best friends, Monty, is dating my older brother’s best friend, so I’m all about love equality.”

“Well, you’re welcome to join in.” Clarke nodded her head. “Um, I’m a big supporter of the animal rights organizations on campus. There’s a rolling admission lunch on Mondays in the dining hall from eleven to one. The only requirement is that it is Meatless Monday…” She chewed on her bottom lip.

“Eh, my brother and I go hunting and fishing with his best friend and his dad a lot, and I love leather and shit.” The girl waved her hand at her outfit. “I doubt that they’d want me at their lunch.”

“Well, I mean, not everyone is a vegan or even vegetarian. Anyone can go. Just the request is no meat at the table for that lunch period.”

“But, bacon, man.” Clarke shrugged. She wasn’t a vegan, or even technically a vegetarian. She could take or leave meat, so she just didn’t eat a lot of it. One of the things she wanted to talk about in the nutrition group was the fact that people got a lot more nutrients from the foods they ate than they realized, but they needed to eat a moderate amount of a variety of types of foods to get a more balanced diet and bulk up in foods for nutrients they might even be lacking in.

“The feminism club is pretty popular, and that’s got meetings a few nights a week where we debate sexism, racism, classism—basically all of the isms. I try to make it when I can. Oh, and the art club! I’m minoring in studio art, and I also get involved in the art club. We go to museums bi-weekly, and we do short art shows on the campus quad in the spring and fall where the participants can sell their wares. But, it’s not all paintings and stuff. There’s a variety of mediums, including dance and music performances.” She trailed off. “I guess I’m rambling. There’s a lot of pretty cool stuff on campus.”

“The art stuff sounds fun. I’m not the best artist, but I’m really good at holding a mascara wand.” The girl grinned, making Clarke chuckle. “That and a katana or a bokken.” She must have noticed Clarke’s confused look, because she laughed. “The bokken is a wooden sword, and the katana is a steel one. It’s used in several types of martial arts, especially the Japanese martial arts. I’ve been studying mixed martial arts for years.” She winked at Clarke. “No daddy, drug-addict teen mom, well she was a teen mom for my brother, who’s five years older, and she died when I was a little kid, so I’ve got anger issues.”

Clarke’s jaw dropped open, and she quickly slammed it shut with a click of her teeth. “Oh…”

“Foster mom was a hard-ass, I didn’t do well with JROTC stuff, like my brother did, so she sent me to martial arts classes. My brother likes the guns, but I like the swords.” The girl cocked her head to the side. “What about you?”

“Oh, for me it’s art.” She laughed, looking to her feet. “And food. And natural, healthy means of dealing with your shit.” She frowned. “My dad died when I was fifteen, and I felt so out of control, you know? Well, I guess you do. I blamed my mom, because she was driving the car during the accident, and I just…I felt really numb.” She sniffed. “I stopped going to class. I started drinking a lot more than I should. I stopped eating.” She looked away from the girl, staring at the ground. “I got really severe anxiety and depression, and my mom put me on a fuck-load of pills, because she was a doctor, and she thought that pills means things are automatically get better, but it didn’t work, and I developed anorexia, and I went into in-patient for like six months to get my shit together, and there was a naturopathic doctor that was there, and her and the nutritionist and the art therapist---basically, the three of them saved me, you know? So, I threw myself into getting a double major in nutrition and pre-med, and I want to be a CNS, which is a clinical nutrition specialist, and a naturopathic doctor, and I’ll probably get my master’s in art therapy at some point, too. I dunno. Basically, I know I want to work at a holistic care place that provides nutrition counseling, mental health counseling and art therapy, and naturopathic medicine, which means more about healing your mind, your soul, your body, and your gut rather than throwing a bunch of pills at the problem.”

“That’s fucking awesome.” The girl grinned. “I’m Octavia.” She held her hand out, and Clarke immediately took it.

“I’m Clarke.”

“It’s awesome to meet you, Clarke. I’d love to get involved in your nutrition club.” She dug her hand into her pocket, pulling out her phone. “What’s your number? Maybe we could get lunch or something? I’m a freshman, so I still trying to figure out who my real friends are.” Clarke laughed, rattling her number off to Octavia. “Well, I better get to class. Can I just give you one tip?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“Instead of just timidly trying to hand off a flyer, make it passionate. Get people charged up to check out your nutrition club.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. You tell me. What is something awesome about good nutrition?”

“Um, good nutrition makes you feel more awake during the day, and you get better sleep at night when you’re body isn’t sluggish and trying to break down the crap in your system?”

“Okay, pretty good.” Octavia grabbed a flyer from Clarke’s arms. “Hey, you, kid, if you eat better, you sleep better! Find out more when you join the nutrition club!” She shoved the flyer into a passing guy’s chest. “You gotta give ‘em a taste of something they want and tease ‘em with it. You try it.”

“Um, hey! Did you know that when you eat better, you have better sex!?” Clarke called out to a passing girl, holding out a flyer. The girl looked at her in surprise.

“Really? How?”

“If you come to the nutrition club, you could find out.” The girl took the flyer and glanced at it, making her way away from the girls.

“Is that true?” Octavia gaped, looking at Clarke.

“Sort of?” The brunette cocked an eyebrow at her, making Clarke laugh. “Basically, the idea is that if you eat healthier foods, you get more energy, and you’ll have better stamina. Better stamina means you can go for longer when you have sex. And, if you want to take the vegans’ words for it, they say that they have better sex, because bodily fluids taste better than those who eat more meat. Like, sweet fruits and veggies mean sweeter…”

“Spunk?” Clarke groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, good to know. I better go. I’ll text you, Clarke. It was nice meeting a fellow oddball, kindred spirit.”

“Um, thanks.”

“Plus, you’re older, right? So, you could introduce me to hot, older guys?”

“Well, a friend of mine from the art club is a big, hulking, workout fiend with the innards of a teddy bear. He draws and paints, works out constantly, rides a motorcycle, and I think he does Krav Maga or something, so…”

“Yes, I want.” Octavia clapped her hands, making Clarke chuckle. “I demand an introduction.”

“He’s a part-time student, working at trainer at the gym, so he’s older.”

“How old? My brother worked for two years before he started taking classes, and he’s a junior this year. He’s twenty-three, but he straddles the line between a ninety-year-old grandpa and a horny thirteen year old boy who just discovered how awesome boobs are for the first time. Like, that old?” Clarke laughed.

“Well, he’s…okay, so Lincoln, my friend, he’s older than that. He’s twenty-six. So, he might be a little old for you…or, a lot, but I can make an introduction. I feel like you’ve got more…” She trailed off, because she didn’t know what word to use to describe the enigma in front of her. She waved a hand at Octavia. The grin on the brunette’s face was hauntingly familiar, and Clarke was hit with that realization once again. Where did she know this girl’s smile from?

“You’re right. I need a whole lotta man to handle this. But, anyways, I gotta go. ‘Bye, Clarke!” She threw her arms around Clarke, startling her before rushing off, the flyer still clutched in her hand.

Clarke let out a breath, watching the whirlwind of the younger girl saunter away. She sniffed, calling out to people, trying to hand out flyers. She used Octavia’s advice, calling out to people that she could help improve their concentration, their sleeping habits, their ability to work out, and their sex lives if they came to the nutrition club. Everyone held onto her flyers after that, and Clarke hoped that at least a portion of them would show for the first meeting.

After another hour of handing out flyers, feeling the chill of the air deep within her bones, she noticed a familiar head of mussed hair out of the corner of her eye. “Well, well, well…” Bellamy, or as she still liked to think of him, car-pissing asshole, strolled up to her. “Hey, Princess.”

“I’m busy.” She turned her back on him, smiling flirtatiously to a group of guys walking by. “Hi, I’m Clarke. I’m trying to host a nutrition club. Some of the topics we’ll discuss include how eating healthier can help improve your sleeping habits, your energy levels, and your sex life.” She bit her bottom lip. “Any chance I could see you there?” She held the flyer out. The guys grinned at her lecherously, grabbing the flyer. One of the guys tried to flirt with her further, but Bellamy scoffed behind them.

“You guys are really gonna fall for that? She’s a pretty girl saying that you drinking less booze, eating more spinach, and eating less chips or pizza is going to make you better in bed, when it’s your technique that would need to change to make that happen.” She turned on her heel and glared at him. The guys scoffed, wondering away, muttering something about how no piece of ass was worth this bullshit. She tightened her hands into fists, jaw tensed.

“Not true. When you eat healthier and cut out the crap, you feel healthier, your body burns more fat, and you can build muscle more easily. You feel better physically, which often correlates for feeling more confident and sexy. When you feel confident and sexy, you have a tendency to enjoy sex more. Plus, eating healthier means that you have better stamina.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my stamina, Princess.” She smiled saucily at him.

“Everyone always has room for improvement.”

“I’m a sex god, babe. There’s no room for improvement here.”

“Yet your flirting abilities leave a lot to be desired. There is nothing about you that I find remotely intriguing enough to want to jump into bed with you.”

“Oh, Princess, I haven’t even turned the charm on yet.” She rolled her eyes. She stalked up to him, slamming a flyer into his chest.

“Take a flyer and get out of my face. You’re annoying me.” She stepped back, but he followed her, pushing the flyer back into her chest.

“I don’t want a flyer.”

“Take a flyer. Don’t take a flyer. I don’t give a fuck. Just leave me alone.” She complained, pulling away from him, but he kept following her.

“No, I won’t take a flyer until you give me proof that changing my diet would improve my sex life.”

“Do an experiment. Go fuck some girl. Take note of what you do and how long you do it for. Rate your pleasure on a scale from one to ten. Get her to do the same. I don’t give a fuck what you do. Eat no junk, don’t drink beer, and eat well-balanced meals for a week and then fuck the same girl again. See if there is any differences. You’ve got yourself the basics for a classic research experiment.” She slammed another flyer into his chest. “Now, take the fucking flyer before I shove it down your throat or leave me alone.”

He grinned at her, holding the flyer to his chest, letting her finally move away from him without following. “Princess, I never need a girl to rate how well I fuck her until she’s blissed out of her mind.” She rolled her eyes. “The only way that I could ever possibly engage in such an experiment was if my research partner was in on it.” She stared at him, and his face erupted with the most sinister, but weirdly attractive smirk she’d ever seen. “And, the only girl I’d ever ask to rate me on how good in bed I was would be you.”

She swallowed, because she wasn’t thinking about his suggestive comments and the fact that he just basically asked her to fuck him twice for the sake of a research experiment. Instead, she was focused on why she finally realized where the familiarity of Octavia’s grin was from. “Not happening, dickhead.” She said quickly, turning her back on him. She froze a moment longer before looking over her shoulder. “What’s your sister’s name?”

“What?”

“What’s your sister’s name?” She repeated, and he gave her a confused look.

“Octavia, why?” She shook her head quickly.

“No reason. See you around, loser.” She quickly ran off, the dread settling deep in her gut. Octavia and Bellamy were related? So, he was the JROTC kid who liked guns, with a teen mom and a baby sister who was five years younger than him, and his mom had drug problems and she died when his baby sister was little and he was a teenager or something. And, he was in foster care. She knew far too much about him, when all she really wanted to know was that his name was Bellamy, he was a douche, and he pissed on her car.


	4. "Don't bother; I'm busy."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. Life has gotten in the way, and I’ve been lacking inspiration in all of my fics lately. Here’s another installment of the “this means war” universe.
> 
> I’ve decided to make this into a story of its own and to make another compilation of short stories. This was turning into more than a bunch of loosely linked short stories and more of a full-fledged fic. So, be on the look out for more bellarke shorts.
> 
> Based on this prompt: “don’t bother, I’m busy”

Clarke was late. She woke up late. Then, there was the long as hell line at the coffee shop. Then, her car wouldn’t turn over, and Raven had to give her a jump after making her promise to let her tinker with it when she got back after classes that evening. So, she was late to class, and she was stressed. It was midterms, and she was tired. She yawned as she raced up the steps to her anthropology class. As she was entering the building, she bumped into Bellamy Blake, nearly tumbling backwards down the steps. The only reason she didn’t fall on her ass and bust her head open was because he caught her around the waist, pulling her against his chest. She found her face pressed to his clavicle, and his arms squeezed her even closer. She felt his chuckle more than she heard it, making her heart jump into her throat. She coughed, her hands finding his sides.

“Hey, princess. Happy to see me?” He smirked down at her, and she squirmed, pushing him away by the grip she had on his sides. She took a step back, brushing her hair from her eyes.

“Bellamy.” She rolled her eyes at him, readjusting her bag on her shoulder. She stepped to his left, attempting to go around him. He blocked her path, holding both of his hands up, the smirk still on his lips. She narrowed her eyes, stepping to the right, but once more, he blocked her path. “Don’t bother; I’m busy.”

“Have you given any thought to my proposal to experiment with me?” He crossed his arms, making the muscles bulge beneath his long sleeves. She found her eyes being drawn to the stretch of the gray shirt on his arms. It took everything in her to wrench her gaze from his arms to level them on his face once more. He was grinning even wider now, as if he saw her perusal of his arms. Shit. She didn’t have time for this. She was exhausted and _late_. So very, very late.

“I’m not interested. Find someone else to annoy the shit out of.” She tucked a blonde curl around her ear when the early March breeze whipped it around her face. “I’m late for class. If I don’t get there in the next few minutes, my professor will literally lock the door so that no one can get in late.”

“Well, then, by any means. We’ll chat later.” He nodded at her. “Princess.”

“Asshole.” She rolled her eyes, stepping to the left again. He stepped out of the way, grabbing the door to hold it open for her. As she walked by him, he bowed, making her roll her eyes at him even harder. She rushed to class, ignoring the burn in her cheeks.

* * *

Octavia dropped onto Clarke and Raven’s couch, sighing loudly. “My brother is such a dick. I just left his apartment, and he was berating me about my grade in philosophy. It’s not my fault that this shit makes absolutely _no sense_.” She ran a hand through her brown hair, pouting at Clarke. “When I got up to leave, he was all ‘where are you going, O?’” She spoke deeply, as if she was trying to imitate Bellamy’s voice. Clarke chuckled, handing Octavia a beer with a stern look. “Don’t worry your secret is safe with me. He doesn’t know that we’re friends and that I’m hanging out here, and he sure as hell won’t know that you’re supplying me with booze.”

“Good, because if he found out you and I were friends, he’d be banging down my door and making my life miserable. After all, I’m one of those ‘Kappa cunts’ that fucked you over.”

Raven snorted as she dropped a bowl of freshly popped popcorn and a bowl of assorted potato chips onto the coffee table in front of them. She grabbed a Dorito and popped it into her mouth. “Clarke is just worried that he wouldn’t be banging on our door to bang her.”

“Eww.” Clarke and Octavia said at the same time.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Clarke. You know that you want to fuck him. And, Octavia, you’ve got a hot brother. You need to get over it.”

“I don’t want to fuck your brother.” Clarke told Octavia with as much seriousness as she could muster. “Seriously.”

“Anyways,” Octavia said with a grimace before taking a swig from her beer. “I’m sorry that my brother was such an asshole that he pissed on your car. Like, who the fuck does that?” She took another sip of her beer before reaching her hand out to grab a handful of popcorn, which she shoved into her mouth, stray kernels falling onto her lap.

“Yeah, well, I agree. He’s a dick.” Clarke agreed, grabbing a barbeque chip from the bowl of chips.

“He’s a hot dick. And, I bet he’s packing.” Raven added, grinning as she raised her beer to her lips.  
“Ugh. Please stop talking.” Clarke flipped her off before turning her attention to Octavia.

“My brother is a jerk, and I swear he can tell when I’m dating someone. Like, he’s this over the top, possessive, overprotective douche when I’m single, but the second another male is around me, he can fucking sniff it out.” Clarke laughed, grabbing another potato chip from the bowl.

“How was the date with Lincoln last night?”

“God, it was so amazing. Lincoln is amazing. And so romantic.” Octavia was practically glowing as she reflected on the date from the night before. “He took me to dinner, and then we took a walk around the park, but it was kind of cold still, so he had to wrap his arm around my waist and hold me close. It was just…I had an amazing time.”

“That sounds adorable. Lincoln is a babe.” Raven chuckled, grabbing some popcorn. “Did you bone?”

“Why is everything about sex with you?” Clarke shook her head.

“Because I’m having regular sex, so I’m even more horny than usual.” Raven winked.

“We didn’t have sex.” Octavia scrunched her nose. “We didn’t even kiss. Ever since Clarke connected us a few weeks back, we’ve been texting and chatting on Facebook and such. Like, after meeting up with coffee that first day, we haven’t even seen each other in person. I just wanted to get a feel for him, you know? See if there was something there. And, then he called me. He laid it all out for me. He was all, ‘I like you, Octavia. I have a feeling you like me to. I want to go on a date with you.’ So, then we set up the date, and we went out last night. It was so perfect and romantic.”

“I’m glad you had a great time. So, you guys are going to keep seeing each other?”

“Yes! I’m so glad that you hooked us up, Clarke. So grateful. I just don’t want my brother to ruin it.”

“He can’t possibly ruin it? How could he? What is he going to say? Is it a race thing? Is it because Lincoln is part black? Because that is totally fucked up—”

“What? No. Clarke. It’s not about race. You know my brother is interracial, too, right? Like, he’s half-Filipino. He’s my half-brother, too. Our mom is Greek, and his dad was Filipino, but mine was French-Canadian.” Octavia shook her head. “And, our foster mom, Indra Woods? She was black—her family is Haitian. So, it’s totally not a racial thing.”

“Oh, okay, good. I wanted to make sure.”

“Yeah, but it is the age thing, I think. Well, I mean, Lincoln’s three years older than Bell. And, beyond that, it’s been me and Bell since we were kids. I was eight, and Bell was thirteen. We love Indra, and she did ask us if we wanted her to adopt us, but we said no. We told her that we loved her, but her adopting us meant that we were replacing Mom. And, I was holding out hope that our dads might come back. Well, Bell was jaded about that, and I think that he wanted to try and get custody of me when he was eighteen, but Indra set him straight, saying that if she ever did try to adopt us, it didn’t mean that she was replacing our Mom or trying to steal me from Bellamy, so he didn’t try to get custody, and we continued to live with Indra since we aged out of the system, but Indra said that we could stay with her until we got settled, like on breaks and stuff. So, I mean, I still live with her since I’m in the dorms, but Bell lives here, which is off-campus, so he lives here permanently.”

“Wow, O. I didn’t know…” Raven reached across Clarke to grasp Octavia’s hand. “What are you going to do? Move in with him? Stay with Indra?”

“Well, I started working as a barista at the coffee shop on campus, so that will help with expenses, because I’m basically relying on student loans and scholarships to pay for school and my stuff. I don’t want to force Indra to feel obligated to help me pay for clothes and makeup and such now that I’m eighteen, almost nineteen.”

“That’s smart, Octavia.” Clarke grabbed Octavia and Raven’s hands in hers. “Our lease is up in May, so maybe we could get a three-bedroom?” She shrugged.

“I’m down! You’re not a mess, right?” Raven agreed.

“Ha! Between Bellamy and Indra, there is no way in hell I’m a mess. Mom being a drug-addict and mess and a half—well, let’s just say that Bellamy had to be Mr. Mom, you know?”

Clarke looked down at her lap. She didn’t like learning all of this stuff about Bellamy. She preferred to see him as an obnoxious asshole. Instead, she was learning about how he was a loving brother, a hard worker, and extremely determined person. She didn’t want to know those things about him.

“Well, let’s get wasted!” Raven cheered. She raised her beer bottle high into the air, and Clarke smiled, raising her own bottle to tap it against Raven’s. Octavia grinned, raising her own bottle. The three of them tapped their bottles together before bringing them to their lips.

“To being roomies!” Octavia cheered. “Shit, I can’t tell my brother.”

* * *

Clarke sat down on an empty bench in the quad. She pulled out her phone, taking a deep breath. She loaded her favorites and selected ‘Mom’ from the list. As the call connected, she raised her phone to her ear. She leaned back on the bench, closing her eyes. “Hi, Clarke.” Abby Griffin-Kane’s austere voice filled her head, making Clarke sigh softly.

“Hi, Mom.”

“How are you? Your classes and extracurriculars? They’re not getting in the way of your schoolwork, right? A double major in the sciences is a tremendous amount of work, and I would hate it—”

“Mom, classes are going great. All of my clubs are going well, too. I’m great. Thanks for asking.” She flicked her tongue along her bottom lip. “I just wanted to check in with you and Marcus, see how you’re doing.”

“We’re excellent, sweetheart. Thank you for asking. Is something wrong?”

“Not at all, Mom. I just wanted to say hi. I just…the anniversary is coming up, and I…”

“I know, Clarke. It’s hard being without your father, even after all of these years. I love him, but…”

“I know.” Clarke nodded her head. She felt her stomach twist and a pressure settled in her chest. “I just…what did you want to do this year?”

“Well, um, honey…with Marcus’s campaign going on…I just…we can’t really get away right now. Charles Pike would take that as a sign of weakness, you know? Like, Marcus can’t possibly be Mayor if he’s going to run off and vacation constantly.”

“But Mom, that’s Marcus’s career. What about you and me, going to the beach house to celebrate Dad? That’s different.”

“Clarke, I understand how that could be difficult for you, really, but with Marcus’s campaign and things getting busy at the hospital and the clinics we’re opening in the surrounding sectors, I couldn’t possibly get away—”

“You know what. I get it. Spring break is next week, and it’s the anniversary of Dad’s death. I’ll bring Raven, and Octavia, and a few more friends, okay? Problem solved.”

“Oh, sweetheart. That sounds like a good idea. I just…I love you, Clarke.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Clarke hung up the phone, dropping it into her lap. She felt a stray tear slip out of the corner of her eye.

“Well, look who it is! It’s the Princess!” She quickly raised her hand to wipe away the tears, steeling her resolve as Bellamy dropped into the space beside her.

“Bellamy.” She snapped, crossing her arms and looking in the opposite direction.

“Oh, c’mon, Princess. Why ya giving me the cold shoulder? That’s not very nice of you.”

“Leave me alone, Bellamy.” She grabbed her phone and stood up quickly, grabbing her bag from the ground. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with you? Usually we have this great bonding moment where I insult you, you insult me, it turns vaguely sexual, and you pretend like you don’t want to fuck me. We have a good thing going, Princess, and you’re just gonna cut it short before we can do the usual song and dance?”

“Leave me alone, Bellamy.” She repeated, turning her back on him, but he grabbed her wrist, stopping her from going far.

“Clarke.” His voice was quiet, different from every other time they’d communicated. She closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Bellamy.” Clarke jerked on her wrist, pulling it from Bellamy’s grasp.

“Right, silly me. I forgot for a second that you’re not the spoiled princess with a stick up her ass.” She tightened her jaw, tensing her shoulders before straightening her back.

“And you’re just a dickhead with a god complex who thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

“Well, I know I’m a gift to women, Princess, and there are plenty of girls who’d be willing to offer glowing letters of recommendation.”

She rolled her eyes, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Goodbye, Bellamy.” They stared at each other for a moment, and he nodded, taking a step back.

“If you ever need an uninvolved party to, you know, complain to, I’m around. Later, Princess.” She flicked her tongue over her bottom lip before turning away from him completely. She started to walk away from him, but this time he didn’t stop her. She didn’t know if she was relieved or if she was disappointed, but she didn’t dare look back to see if he was still watching.

* * *

 

He was.


	5. I'm fine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke is fine. She's fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life, man...
> 
> If you’re struggling with an eating disorder or think that you may need some help from a professional, I urge you to get help as soon as you can. Your health (both physical and mental) is of upmost importance. I’m sending so much love and positivity to you.

Clarke stared at herself in the mirror, wincing at the bulge of her stomach and the thickness of her arms and thighs. She felt so uncomfortable with the excess skin that was on display, but she only owned bikinis, and she’d brought them with her on spring break. She pinched at the skin of her hips, feeling the spasm in her chest at the fact that she was able to pull the skin away from her body that way. “Ugh.” She had to go shopping. She couldn’t wear this. She’d let Raven, Octavia, Lincoln, and Wick go to the beach, and she would go shopping for a one-piece. And a muumuu to wear as a cover-up. She’d been easing up on portion sizes and only eating two meals a day, but it didn’t seem to be helping. Then again, she was being dumb to think that a week of dieting would get her the right results.

A knock on the door broke her out of her appraisal of herself, and she reached for her robe to quickly pull it on around her body. She rushed to the door as she tied the robe shut tightly around her frame. She opened the rood to reveal Raven on the other side. “You almost ready?”

“Actually, I’m not feeling up to sunbathing today. It’s still a little early in the season, so I think I’m just going to go shopping today.”

Raven cocked her head to the side as she studied Clarke. It made her uncomfortable, and she gave her a tight smile as reassurance that everything was _fine_. “You sure? We can go, too. The guys can hang here or go to the beach, but O and I can come with you.”

“NO!” Clarke said quickly, and she smiled more widely at Raven. “I mean…its fine. You guys go to the beach. Spend time with your non-boyfriends for a while.”

“Okay…” Raven stretched the word out and stared at Clarke a moment longer before she took a step back from the doorway. Clarke took advantage of that.

“I’m gonna get dressed. Have fun!” She blew a kiss at Raven and then shut the door. She pressed her back against it for a moment, taking a couple of breaths before she rushed to the master suite’s closet to get out of the swimsuit.

* * *

 

Clarke had successfully bought a black and a navy blue one-piece for the week, along with a few colorful dresses to wear over top of them. She couldn’t fully avoid the beach, so she agreed to head to the beach with them the next day. She skipped dinner, complaining that she was tired after the long drive from D.C. to Myrtle Beach. She could see the gears turning in Raven’s head, so she grabbed an apple before heading upstairs to her room.

She did eat the apple, because she could feel the pangs in her stomach that a lot of water and coffee couldn’t seem to quell. It felt sour and heavy in her stomach, though, and she threw a third of the apple away, unable to finish it. She spent the remainder of the night, huddled under the blankets, her headphones in her ears to block out the sounds of her friends downstairs. The music blasted through her ears, and she found herself scrolling through Instagram, liking pictures of people’s exercise routines and healthy meals and excited exclamations about reaching goal weights.

She got a notification from Raven’s page, revealing that she’d posted a picture of her, Wick, Octavia, and Lincoln all sitting by the fire pit in the backyard, grinning as they roasted marshmallows. O had commented on the picture about how they wished Clarke was with them, tagging her in the post. Then two seconds later, commenting that she was relieved that Raven’s page was private, because her brother wouldn’t be able to see it.

Before Clarke could stop herself, she found that she was scrolling through O’s page, finding a picture of her and Bellamy standing in the woods, both of them holding rifles in their hands, dressed in camo. She crinkled her nose, because she wasn’t a fan of hunting, but this was a pre-hunting pic, so there were no pictures of their spoils in the post. She found herself scrolling through the comments and clicking on Bellamy’s Instagram, curious about what kind of pics he posted.

She was expecting pictures of him with half-naked girls and drunken friends, but instead, she found pictures of him with goofy smiles, glasses, unkempt hair, and plants. There were pictures of him looking at Octavia adoringly. There were pictures of him laughing with friends, most of which appeared to be candid shots of him that he’d stolen from other people. There were pictures of him grinning next to plants that he’d apparently resuscitated after a “friend” had failed to take care of them correctly while he was at home with his sister and Indra one weekend. There was a picture of him and Octavia with an African American woman, whom Clarke assumed was Indra. There were pictures of him in uniform from his JROTC days (and damn, he looked good in an uniform). There were even a couple of pictures of him playing chess, his hair standing up in messy tufts around his head as he studied the board, or pictures of him reading books while lounging on a couch, in which his friends called him a nerd in the comments. The pictures were nothing like the sarcastic, asshat she’d known him as.

Clarke frowned, because she didn’t want to see this side of Bellamy. She knew it existed, but it was easier for her to focus on him as the douche that she’d first knew him as. She quickly exited his Instagram. She needed to get away from this Bellamy Blake.

A song came on her phone that made her pause. It was Sarah McLachlan’s _I Will Remember You_. She sniffed, because out of the hundreds of songs she had on her iTunes, this song would come up. The anniversary of her father’s passing was in two days, and she felt the tears fill her eyes. She screenshotted the cover image for the song, but she couldn’t bring herself to make a post about it yet. Instead, she let herself cry as she listened to the song.

* * *

Clarke filled up the second glass of ice water, raising it to her lips. Her stomach was growling, because all she had eaten that morning was a single slice of toast, and she was hoping that the water would help relieve that by filling her up. She skipped lunch earlier, telling Lincoln and Octavia that she was saving room for margaritas and tacos or nachos, so her friends brushed it off. If Raven had been there, then she would have realized that something was up, but Clarke had waited until after Raven and Wick had snuck away to take a “nap” earlier in the day.

She was still dressed in her navy one-piece, with a white dress with blue polka dots over top. On her head a white floppy hat and she was sticky with sweat and a left over sand. She’d worn the hat and the dress all day, which left her feeling hot and sweaty. The sweat was good, though, because water weight was totally a _thing_.

She’d stayed for an extra hour after Raven and Wick had left at noon. She feigned that she was leaving, because she wanted to allow Octavia time to bond with her new beau (even though they weren’t anything official yet), but the truth of it was that she was feeling uncomfortable and just wanted to get out of her swimsuit. She stuffed her phone, empty water bottle, suntan lotion, and book into her beach bag and grabbed the towel she was sitting on and headed back up the beach to the beach house.

Clarke didn’t want to alert Raven and Wick to her arrival, so she slipped into the house via the kitchen sliding door. She immediately got a glass of water, chugged, and then grabbed the second. She was barely in the house for tens before the front door flew open, and she heard heavy stomping and loud shrieking.

“I cannot fucking believe you!” Octavia’s voice filled the entire house, and Clarke heard a thump upstairs. Well, now Raven knew something was up. “You’re such a fucking asshole!” Octavia came storming into the kitchen, dropping her own bag on the ground, along with her towel as she rushed past Clarke to grab an ice pack from the freezer. While O was busy getting an Ice pack, Lincoln stumbled into the kitchen with a towel pressed to nose, and it was rapidly turning dark red with blood.

“Shit.” Clarke muttered, and she jumped into action. She put her glass down and rushed to his side, whipping the hat off of her head so that she could see his nose better.

“I’m the asshole!? You’re the one who ran away to Myrtle Beach without telling anyone!” Clarke momentarily froze when she heard Bellamy’s voice fill up her kitchen, but she shook it off. She reached for the towel, gingerly peeling it back from Lincoln’s face to check out the damage.

“You can’t just go around punching people, Bellamy!” O returned to Lincoln’s side, holding up the ice pack and a new hand towel (a red one, thankfully, or else Abby would probably have thrown a fit if it were one of her fancy white one).

“You were practically fucking this _old man_ in the sand on a public beach, O! I didn’t know who he was, and he could’ve been accosting you for all I know! He’s too goddamn old for you!”

“He’s not too old! And we weren’t doing anything! He was putting sunscreen on my back!” O screamed back.

“Would you both shut up for two seconds!?” Clarke snapped. “I’m trying to look at Lincoln’s face!”

“What the fuck is the Princess doing here!? Do not tell me what to do!”

Clarke flipped Bellamy off before tilting Lincoln’s chin slightly back to see if the bleeding had stopped. It appeared to be slowing, so she quickly moved his head forward again, so that he was leaning forward. A quick swipe of her thumbs along his nose and under the eye sockets revealed no apparent fractures. It was mainly nasty bleeding, and he would be swollen and bruised for a while, but he’d be fine over all. “You okay?” She asked him, taking the ice pack and towel from Octavia. She wrapped the ice pack and rested it gently under his nose.

“‘m fine. Nothing new for me. Been punched in the face plenty of times. Kicks are worse.” Lincoln joked. He tried winking, but it was a lazy wink and he grunted slightly at the way the movement stimulated his injury. “What’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“Nothing appears broken. You’ll be swollen and bruised for a bit. Pinch the soft part of the nose shut and hold the ice to your face while you sit, with your head leaning forward. Don’t lean your head back, or else you could swallow the blood. That can fuck your stomach up royally.” She guided him to take a seat at the table off to the side. “Keep the cold compress on for ten minutes, and we can check back again to see if you’re still bleeding. I have medicines for the inflammation.”

Clarke stepped back, allowing Octavia to take over with mother-henning. While she was doing that, the brunette kept shooting nasty looks Bellamy’s way. Bellamy, on the other hand, was glaring at Clarke. “How the hell do you know my sister?”

“She and I are friends. We met back in February.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “You’re standing in _my_ kitchen, Bellamy, so you will speak to me with respect, and you will treat _my friends_ with respect.” Bellamy scoffed, and he rolled his eyes so hard that they might have rolled right out of his head.

“Figures that you’re rich, too.” He muttered.

“What the hell are you doing here, Bellamy? Why are you in my house? You certainly weren’t invited.” She snapped. She was now getting a headache from all of the shouting. She stalked over to wear she left her water and took a large gulp. She pressed the cold glass against her forehead and closed her eyes, trying to fight through the dizzy feeling she was experiencing.

“O didn’t tell me where she was spending spring break. Hell, she didn’t even tell Indra!” Clarke’s eyebrows rose at that, and she glanced over at Octavia in surprise. The brunette rolled her eyes and stood up from where she was squatting in front of Lincoln. “I had to activate the damn GPS on her phone to find her.”

“That’s because Indra trusts me!” Octavia crossed her arms as she stared at her brother. “I told her that I was spending spring break at my friend’s beach house, and I said that I would call her if I needed anything. You’re the psycho who drives eight hours to stalk his sister!”

“Yeah, well, you should’ve told me where you’d be!”

“You’re not my father!” Octavia shouted. Bellamy froze, and Clarke could feel the tension rolling off of him. His face was bright red, his brow furrowed, and his hands were squeezed into fists at his sides. It was then that Clarke noticed that his were bloody. She didn’t know if the blood was his or Lincoln’s. Perhaps even a mixture of both. She sighed loudly and went to the sink, grabbing the black wash cloth that was stretched out on the faucet head. She re-wet it before moving toward Bellamy.

He jumped when he realized she was at his side, grabbing his hand. He almost pulled it back, but she clicked her tongue at him. “Let me see it.” He letter her hold his hand to dab at his knuckles. She saw that most of the blood was Lincoln. Only one of his knuckles and split during the punch, and it didn’t need stitches—just antibiotic cream and a bandage. “You’re fine. I can get you Neosporin and a Band-Aid.” She said after she was finished wiping at the cut to clean it out.

“Thanks.”

“What the hell is going on in here?” Raven and Wick came into the kitchen, and it was obvious that the two of them had haphazardly dressed in the five minutes that Clarke, Bellamy, and Octavia had been fighting in the kitchen. Raven’s hair was thrown into a messy bun, and she was wearing a Wick’s t-shirt (backwards and inside out) and a pair of shorts, whereas Wick was shirtless and sporting a pair of gym shorts. Raven’s eyebrows rose when she saw Bellamy standing there, and Clarke immediately dropped his hand like it burned her and stepped away from him. “The fuck is Bellamy doing here?”

“Stalking me.” Octavia snapped, arms crossed. Bellamy scoffed and flipped her off.

“More like watching out for you, because you’re off fucking old men.”

“You’re such a dick, Bell! Lincoln and I aren’t even sleeping with each other! We’ve only known each other for a few weeks. We’re even staying in separate bedrooms here.”

Clarke pressed her hand to her forehead and widened her stance, because she felt herself sway a little bit.

“What’s up, Clarke?” Raven was at her side in a second, wrapping an arm around her middle. “You look pale? What do you need?”

“I’m fine. I’ve just got a little headache from all of the screaming.”

“Maybe you should sit down. I’ll get you something to eat. I knew that you should’ve eaten earlier. It was too hot to skip lunch.” It was her turn to get mother-henned by O, because she was at Clarke’s other side, ready to guide Clarke to the table. Raven froze in place, letting O lead Clarke to an open chair.

“You skipped lunch?”

Clarke winced, because she knew that tone. “Ray…”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Griffin?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Reyes!” Clarke snapped back.

“You’re skipping meals.”

“I’m _not_ skipping meals!” She squeezed her hands into fists, because she thought she was being careful. “I had breakfast this morning.”

“You ate a slice of toast, but you let me have your eggs…” Wick said absent-mindedly as he rummaged through the pantry for a bag of chips. “Chip?” He held the bag out to her.

“For fuck’s sake, Clarke!” Raven literally stomped her foot. Clarke’s first thought was that her friend was acting like a petulant child.

“I wasn’t that hungry…” She shrugged her shoulders and tried to pass it off as no big deal. Because it was…it was _no big deal_.

“Wait, Clarke, no…” O frowned, resting a hand on her shoulder. Shit, now her new friend who hardly knows anything about her history is acting like she’s about to break.

“It’s fine.” Clarke said firmly. “ _I’m fine_.”

“Bullshit!” Raven shook her head. “I’m calling your mom!”

“No, you are _NOT_.” Clarke stood up, but had to catch herself on Octavia’s arm, because she stood up so quickly that all of the blood rushed to her head.

“Goddamn it, Clarke! I knew something is up! I promised your mom that I wouldn’t let this happen again!” Raven slammed her fist onto the island countertop, and the thump of it (along with her raised voice) made Clarke jump.

“Stop.” She shook her head and squeezed her hands into her fists.

“You’re relapsing!”

“I’m not relapsing!” She wasn’t. She was _fine_.

“I know the signs, Clarke. You’re preoccupied with food, you’re skipping meals, you’re avoiding social engagements, especially those that have to do with food, you’re wearing clothing that isn’t appropriate for the weather, you’re barely leaving your room—you’re isolating yourself. You’re running that stupid nutrition club and constantly going on and on about food and exercise and healthy diets and all of that!” She listed each thing off on her fingers. “You’re defensive as fuck, too!”

“Oh, my God. It’s not that big of a deal! The nutrition club is a good thing. I’m just trying to remind people about how their diets can affect their health!”

“Yeah, exactly! AND YOU’RE NOT EATING!”

Clarke shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

“You’re restricting. Am I going to have to start going into the bathrooms with you again? Check your room for food that you’re hiding? You gonna start counting calories again?”

“Fuck you, Raven.”

“Maybe we should give them a minute,” Wick said, dropping the chip bag onto the counter. He rushed over to Lincoln to help him up.

“Yeah, good idea.” Lincoln said, but his voice was muffled as he pinched and iced his nose. “Bellamy?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” He snapped, and the two men fled the room. Instead, Bellamy focused his attention on Clarke.

“Clarke’s got anorexia, and she’s relapsing.” Raven said after the room had been silent for a few minutes.

“Fuck you, Raven!” Clarke snapped. It wasn’t any of his business. She wasn’t relapsing. She was _fucking fine_.

“Does this have to do with your dad?” O asked her quietly. “I know that tomorrow is…and with your mom staying home with your step-dad.” Clarke jerked away from her hand, stepping out of reach from everyone, which happened to be in the direction of Bellamy (and the door).

“I’m _fine_.”

“You’re not fine,” Raven pleaded with her. She took a step forward, but Clarke took another step back, nearly in line with Bellamy. “We need to call your doctors, okay? How long have you been restricting? I’ve been noticing weird stuff related to food for the last week, but you were running late in the morning, so I couldn’t be sure if it was a relapse or not.”

“I’m not…” Clarke felt the tears start to slip down her cheeks, and she wiped them away roughly. She needed to escape. She needed to get away. She was _fine_. “I’m eating. I’m _eating_.” She sniffed, blinking away the tears.

“Not enough.”

“Stop, please. I just…I need to go lay down.” She took another step back.

“No, we’re going to call your doctors.” Raven said, raising a hand.

“Maybe there’s a doctor nearby that you could see?” Octavia suggested.”

“Just stop!” Clarke turned on her heel and ran past Bellamy. She was out the kitchen door and ran in the direction of the beach. She needed to get away. _She was fine_.

 


	6. Relapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the hopes that he can help Clarke, Bellamy opens up and shares something deeply personal about his own life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be told from Bellamy’s point of view. If you’re struggling with addiction or eating disorders, please seek help immediately. Again, your wellbeing is of the upmost importance. You matter.

“I’m going after her.” Raven started to the door, but Bellamy blocked her path.

“I’ll go.”

“She hates you? Why would she listen to you?”

“Because she hates me, and it is easier to hate me and tell me I’m wrong. It is easier for her to prove me wrong. It’s easier for her to be mad at me when I drag her back in here.” He paused. “Besides, I don’t…she might not…she might need some space from both of you.” He glanced between Raven and O, trying to get them to understand that Clarke was overwhelmed, and she needed space from the two of them. Raven studied him for a moment before giving a quick jerk of her head. He headed out of the house and down in the direction of the beach.

Bellamy saw Clarke sitting in the sand, hunched over, with her face buried into her hands. Her shoulders were shaking, but he didn’t hear her sobs as he got closer. He dropped onto the sand beside her, and her silent sobs subside. Her whole body froze. He gave her a moment, allowing her to wipe her cheeks, but he stared into the ocean. He wanted to let her regain her composure before they started talking. She lifted her head, and he saw her jaw drop open out of the corner of his eye. He figured something snarky or rude was coming her way—a defense mechanism—but he beat her to it. “I’m an alcoholic.” Her mouth shut quickly, and he heard the click of her teeth meeting each other.

“In September…” She began, but trailed off just as quickly. He scrunched his nose, because, yeah, he was a fucking prick to her back in September.

“That wasn’t my finest moment…and I relapsed.” He rubbed his hand on his jeans. He flicked his tongue along his bottom lip, and he took a minute before he decided to open up to her further. He knew a lot of shit about her, probably stuff she never wanted him to know, but if he was going to be of any help, he figured that he may as well tell her his story. “My girlfriend died in a car accident over winter break during last year.” Fuck…that hurt to say out loud.

“I’m so sorry.”

He usually hated it when people said that, because it usually was accompanied by with pity, and he didn’t need anyone’s pity. She didn’t sound like she pitied him. Instead, she sounded like she genuine hurt for him.“I almost didn’t come back during the spring semester, but I paid a shit ton of money on books, and I’ve got loans up to my eyeballs. In hindsight, I wish I had taken the semester off to deal with my shit, for a lot of reasons, because I basically lost the semester anyways.” He coughed.

“I, uh, I started partying pretty heavily. I didn’t go to classes. I couldn’t make myself go. Drinking became a way to bottle up the grief I was feeling. When I was drunk, it was easier to deal with Gina being gone. I stopped hanging out with my friends, and I got hooked up with the wrong people. I just…I almost failed out. It was pretty fucked.” Bellamy blew out a breath, and his hand immediately slipped into his pocket to grab his wallet. “O doesn’t know any of this.”

“I wouldn’t tell her. That’s your business.” Clarke said immediately, and he trusted her. He knew that she wouldn’t share his business. Hell, it is what Raven should’ve done for her this afternoon.

“Yeah, and it wasn’t Raven’s business to bring up her concerns about you in front of all of us.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “She’s worried about you, though, so I understand _why_ she did.” She sniffed and turned her head away from him, so he decided to continue with his story. He opened his wallet and took out the chips that he carried in there. They were reminders of how far he’d come. He held two of the chips out to her, but held onto the third, his most recent one.

“I’m sure O told you about our history.” At her quick head nod, he continued on. Watching as she turned the chips over in her hands. “Well, my foster mom got me hooked up with a rehab, and I dried out, so to speak, over the summer last year. Then, I started doing AA regularly the rest of the summer. I told O that I was doing intensive summer courses to try and bring my grades back up, which is why I was AWOL for a while. I got a twenty-four hour desire chip and a one month chip after being clean for the summer. Then, I got back here.”

“What made you relapse?”

“Stress. My little sister starting college and getting screwed over by Kappa. She wasn’t making friends.” He shrugged. “Feeling weird around my old friends when I tried to hang out with them again and to cut ties with the guys I used to get wasted with. I got one of those stupid reminders on Facebook about what I was doing the year before, and it was a picture of me and Gina doing stupid couple shit. I dunno.” He squeezed the chip in his hand. “Anything. Everything. I was looking for excuses to start drinking again. And, the second that I did, I threw those damn chips away. I got wasted, and then I was fucking douche and I pissed on your car.” He rolled his eyes. He was such a dick, and he was willing to admit it.

“You said you threw away those chips, so do these mean you started going to meetings again?” She held up the chips in her hands. Another set of twenty-four hour desire and one month sobriety chips.

“Yeah.” Bellamy held the third chip out to Clarke. “Six months sober, in fact. Well, technically about seven, but you know…semantics.” He shrugged his shoulders again. She took it, grinning at him, and it was the first genuine smile that she’d sent his way since he’d known her.

“Six months. That’s amazing. You should be so proud.”

“Yeah, I don’t…I don’t think I’m proud of myself.” He looked down at his lap. “I’m lucky, to be honest. It hasn’t been easy, at all. And, once I told my friends about it, they’ve been great. My best friend, Miller…he let me move into his second bedroom even though I was dick to him and cut him off while I was getting wasted all of the time. He…he’s had my back for as long as I’ve known him. I don’t think I’d be sober now, without him.”

“Don’t discount the work that you did. It’s great to have someone in your corner, but you did the work.” Clarke laid a hand on his forearm. Bellamy laid his hand over hers, squeezing it lightly, before moving it away nearly as quickly. She left her hand there, though.

“Yeah. I know. After I told my friends the truth, they worked out a schedule so that I always had someone going with me to a meeting, twice a day for two months before I eased off to once a day for a few months, and now I go every other day, by myself most of the time. In a few months, I’ll switch to three times a week, then twice a week, and then once a week. Then, however often I need to go from then on.”

“That’s really amazing.”

“Yeah, we all stopped partying, you know. Well, they go to parties, but one of them always volunteers to stay behind to hang out with me. So, I don’t get all depressed because I’m alone or something.” She laughed, and it was warm. It filled him up in a way that he wasn’t used to. He grinned back.

“Well, they sound like good friends.”

“You’re lucky, too, you know? You have Raven, and it’s so obvious that she cares about you. My sister…she’s…she loves so fiercely, and if she considers you to be a friend, then she’ll have your back and protect you with everything she’s got.” He paused. “She’ll get it.”

“No one really gets it.” She rubbed her index finger through the sand.

“No, you’re right. Not really. Only people going through it, and even then…”

“I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” Clarke repeated, and Bellamy nodded his head.

“Yeah, it’s…Gina was special. I didn’t do relationships. Then, there was Gina…she was… she was special.” He shrugged. “So, yeah, um…this is one of those I show you mine, you show me yours situation.”

“Right, of course.” She stared at the water for a few moments, and he let her have that space. He trusted that she would be willing to open up to him after he shared all of that with her. “My dad died when I was fifteen. I…I think I’ve always been a little depressed and anxious? Like, I always felt like I had to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. Like I was the one that had to make all of the decisions and save everyone.”

“Ha! Sounds familiar. I’m also super impulsive, and my sister tells me I’m too passionate about everything.”

“I’m exactly the opposite. Or, well, I used to be. I’m too logical. For a while, it was either yes or no, black or white, good or bad for me. Then, my dad died, and I just…” She wiped at her cheeks again, and he noticed the tears. He nudged her shoulder was his, shifting closer so that his body was pressed firmly against her side. He was there. He felt the spasm in his gut when he felt her press her side against his, too. “I needed to be in control, and when my dad died, I lost control.”

“I’m sorry about your dad…”

“Thanks.” She blinked a few times. “Things got worse, and I started drinking and skipping school. I felt so numb and out of control, and nothing was working. Nothing was helping me feel like I was…I didn’t feel safe. I didn’t feel together. I felt broken and lost. It was awful. I tried to control the drinking. I drank a certain amount, on certain days, with certain people, and certain types of alcohol. I got off on that control. I liked the rigidity of it all. I was making the decisions.” She reached out for him again, laying her hand on his arm, so he moved his arm to take her hand in his. He held it lightly, but she squeezed their hands together more firmly. He took that as a sign that it would be okay if he interlaced his fingers with hers. “My mom tried to throw pills at the situation. She’s a doctor, and medicine is supposed to fix everything.”

“But, it didn’t. The control did. The rigidity of how much you consumed and when and where and how. That translated to food after a while?”

“Yeah, like I hated myself. I felt ugly and gross and worthless. I felt broken. I felt like I wasn’t worthwhile. I wasn’t _perfect_ anymore. That was something I could control. Food I could control. So, I stopped drinking, and I started focusing on how I looked and food. It was easier to deal with that than my grief.”

“Yeah, sounds familiar.” He started running the index finger on his free hand on the back of her hand that was trapped in his. He felt her twitch, and it made him chuckle. “Ticklish?”

“Shut up.” She squeezed her hand in his lightly.

“So, you started restricting…” He prompted her. “Because being hungry and focusing on your weight means that you’re not grieving your dad. That’s why drinking worked for me. I forgot about the pain with Gina and focused on alcohol and fucking every girl that looked my way.”

“We’re a fucked up pair, huh? My mom freaked, because she caught me purging one night. I got so freaked that I slipped and I wound up falling through the glass doors on our shower and cutting my arm up really badly.” She reached over their joined hands to show him the scar on her left forearm. “That was then she realized what was going on. She thought that I was just losing my ‘baby fat,’ because I was fifteen and turning into a ‘woman’ or whatever.”

Bellamy ran his finger over the scar. “That’s a beauty. I got this one from a drunken bar fight. I’m lucky the bottle didn’t do much damage.” He pointed to the scar above his lip.

Clarke smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “Ehh, it makes you look mysterious. I guess girls can be into that kind of thing.” He laughed, nudging her shoulder with his again.

“You think I’m sexy…admit it.”

“I will do no such thing.” She rolled her eyes before staring out into the water. “My dad died six years ago tomorrow. This is my second relapse.” She let out a shuddering breath. “Fuck, I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe…I…fuck.”

He knew what it was like to have that realization. It fucking sucked. It felt like the world was falling away through your feet, and it must really suck for her, because this was the second time it happened. He hoped like hell that he would never reach that point, because once was enough for him. “What happened the first time?”

“My best friend was killed by a thirteen year old girl in the spring before I went away to college. She stabbed him, because she was trying to rob him. She was hungry and living on the streets, and she was scared. She robbed him, and she killed him when he tried to grab the knife from her.” She shook her head. “He…if she had just asked, he would’ve given everything he could to her. He would’ve gotten her help. He was that kind of person, you know?”

“Shit, Clarke. I’m so sorry.”

Clarke leaned her head onto Bellamy’s shoulder, so he squeezed her hand tightly in his before pulling it free. He wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her into a half-hug. “With the anniversary of my dad’s death coming up, and my mom choosing to stay home, with my step-dad…it was…I just…it hurt, you know. Like, she was forgetting him. Like, she didn’t care. We always come here to honor him. We also get together and support each other and love him. You know? I love Marcus, I do…but...”

“He’s not your dad.”

She nodded her head and wiped her cheeks. “She doesn’t care.”

“I’m sure she does, but…she’s…it’s hard. People deal with loss in their own way, and maybe she’s trying to deal with it this way.”

“I blame her…even now. I tried to forgive her, but it’s hard. I blame her, because she was driving, and he died.”

“Clarke…”

“I know…” She shook her head. “God, I just…I don’t want to cry anymore.” She wiped at her cheeks again.

“I’m thinking we should go to meetings together.”

“What?”

“There’s an eating disorder’s version of AA right?”

“Yeah, I did a lot of group therapy when I was in outpatient. I’m sure there are groups around campus, especially.”

“Then, we’ll go together. I’ll help you out, just like Miller and the other guys did for me. I’ll go with you to meetings.”

“You’d go to a meeting with me?”

“Yeah, if it helps you get back on track and to not relapse further, then I’m down.”

“Okay…”

“Okay. Let’s go back. We’ll get you something to eat. I know! I know! I can feel the anxiety rolling off of you right now. We’ll do something small, and then we’ll look for a meeting around here tonight or tomorrow, and I’ll go with you. We’ll give your doctors a call, too, yeah?” She nodded her head. He released her hand and stood up, holding his hand out to her. She let him help her stand.

Bellamy was shocked when Clarke threw her arms around his shoulders and gave him a tight hug. He returned the hug. “Thank you,” she whispered into his neck, and the flutter of her breath against his skin made him squeeze her closer to his body. After a few moments, she pulled back, and he let her go, giving her as soft a smile as he could. “Wait. How come _you’re_ here?” He frowned at her, confused by what she meant. “I’m surprised Raven didn’t come charging down here.” He watched her face darken, her brow furrowing, at the mention of Raven. Her jaw was tensed, and she was gritting her teeth. Yup. The anger had set in.

“Yeah, well, I knew…after all of that, I knew that you needed some time from her. I told her it would be easier in the long run for me to be the punching bag then her. I was totally ready to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to the house, if needed.” She laughed lightly, but he could still the pain in her eyes. “C’mon…”

“I dunno. I might have to take you up on that offer to carry me.” She winked. “I’m always down for a piggy back ride.”

Bellamy scoffed, pushing at Clarke’s shoulder lightly. “Shut it, Griffin. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think that I wrote any specific dates into this fic, so since it’s been about a year since I last posted, I’m just going to set it in spring 2017. I’m going use a date for text messages and the like from now on, because this chapter is a turning point in Bellamy and Clarke’s relationship. The “war” is over for now, and their friendship is developing.


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